


red is your color

by suzuyaaaaa



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Rebuild of Evangelion | Evangelion: New Theatrical Edition
Genre: Decapitation, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Red String of Fate, spoilers for eva 3.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzuyaaaaa/pseuds/suzuyaaaaa
Summary: Shinji never really liked the color red. He used to hate it. It reminded him of Asuka, the desire to crush a neck with his bony fingers to see the capillaries burst. It reminded him of anger, regret, burns and heartbreak, the terror and false hope he felt as Ayanami’s eyes gleamed when he tried to save her.Now, he’s being confronted by another shade of red he hates: the color of blood, velvet and viscous as wine.-shinji has a bad dream that feels way too much like a memory.
Relationships: Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	red is your color

**Author's Note:**

> realized 2 days ago after finishing this that i apparently just LOVE writing dream fics. person a always has a dream and person b is like <3 "bae cmere"
> 
> but i hope u guys enjoy!!! literally writing kawoshin crack made me feel bad and i was like "they deserve better"

Shinji never really liked the color red. He used to hate it. It reminded him of Asuka, the desire to crush a neck with his bony fingers to see the capillaries burst. It reminded him of anger, regret, burns and heartbreak, the way Ayanami’s eyes gleamed when he tried to save her during the Third Impact. 

Now, he’s being confronted by another shade of red he hates: the color of blood, velvet and viscous as wine.

Kaworu’s ligaments look like bits of thread. When the black halves of the DDS collar pull his plugsuit apart and reveal the pale fabric underneath, Shinji focuses on the muscle ribbons trying to hold everything together, to keep the last bits of life from spilling out. He sees black over white over red, red dripping over white over black, and a circle of ruby prisms signaling the end.

Shinji grinds his teeth as he meets Kaworu’s gaze despite his tears blurring his vision, mind scattered and unable to string together a solution — and Kaworu’s eyes still shine with a fondness Shinji isn’t used to.

He can feel himself drowning in self-pity, but he tries to force himself to stop being so _selfish_ for at least one minute, to negotiate with his pathetic brain. 

“K-Kaworu-kun, please, please, _please_ , can’t you take it off?” Shinji begs, slamming a palm into the invisible barrier between then. There’s a glow of orange around the point of impact, and he crushes his hand into a fist. _This is all my fault. I should be in his place._

Shinji thinks about how necks can’t be replaced with a prosthetic like arms or legs, how nerves can’t be sewn back into the people they once made. His desperation carries his thoughts into absurdity — he wonders if someone can put Kaworu together again, if someone can fix the central nervous system. How could humanity _not_ do that with the technology at their fingertips?

Kaworu’s eyes tilt down and soften as if he had stumbled over a wrong note during a duet, and he lifts his own hand to parallel Shinji’s on his side of the barrier. There’s a yearning in the gesture, and Shinji _hates himself._

“Shinji,” Kaworu whispers, “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“ _No_ , Kaworu, d-don’t talk like that.” Shinji shakes his head so hard and fast he makes himself dizzy. His brain hurts from crying so much already.

Kaworu’s mouth perks up — he has a knack for smiling at the wrong times. “But I did. I’m sorry this isn’t the happiness you wanted.”

“No, it’s— I-I failed _you,_ Kaworu, I’m so— I’m _going to fix this_ —”

“There is no other way. We’ve put ourselves down an inevitable course—”

“But _you deserve to live!_ ” Shinji shrieks, throwing his body against the barrier to try and reach Kaworu and steal that choker from him, even though he knows it’s a futile attempt. He frames Kaworu’s face with his hand, spine shaking with sobs, and tries to memorize every last bit of the other as the last drops of hope inside of him trickle from his eyes.

He remembers that Kaworu’s hair can’t be tamed no matter how many times Shinji wets his hands and tries to smooth it down and behind his ears. He remembers that Kaworu’s smile makes him feel like he’s _worth_ _something,_ and he keeps it tucked in the crevices of his heart for the bluest days. He remembers that Kaworu’s way of speaking and his purest declarations pull him out of the depths of his own mind and ground him in a foreign optimism.

Shinji’s mind stutters as he tries to find ways to encapsulate everything, to remember Kaworu the way he deserves to be remembered, but he can’t think properly when he sees the ring of prisms sharpen towards Kaworu’s throat.

Another pathetic sob rips through Shinji’s throat, _a throat he doesn’t deserve_ , a jugular vein he would rip out for Kaworu in a second. 

Kaworu’s eyes darken around the edges with quiet resignation, but even as their shimmer begins to flicker, he smiles at Shinji without a speck of hatred.

And Shinji remembers now that red also reminds him of precious things, because Kaworu’s lashes cushion his irises like a white meadow curling around a pair of carnations. Red reminds him of the flush he gets when Kaworu presses into his side, when they duet together, when Kaworu speaks his mind with unabashed clarity under the stars’ watchful gaze.

Red reminds him of love and his heart beating hard in his chest.

Shinji hits the barrier again with his fists, still trying to crack the surface as if he doesn’t know this is the end. Kaworu presses his hand once more to the wall between them before sitting back in his seat.

“We’ll meet again, Shinji-kun,” he promises. He sounds so certain, like his tone can make up for how empty those words should be.

Shinji presses his face against the barrier as diamonds of heat appear over Kaworu’s suit where the choker is. He sees a quiet tear trail down Kaworu’s cheek as he tilts his head towards the inferno above.

He shrieks Kaworu’s name one last time, squeezing all of his love and admiration and desperation into each syllable. Kaworu’s gaze blurs with apology before disappearing under the curtain of his eyelids. He still smiles with a crescent moon between his lips — it’s the most beautiful thing Shinji has and will ever see.

There’s a thunderclap of light and a flood of red, red, _red,_ and Shinji instinctively flinches across to the other side of his seat. His ears ring from the impact, and he can’t stop choking on the globs of sadness running down his face and into his mouth. 

He slowly turns around with slipping control over his body — he’s _shaking so much_ — and he’s met with a sea of red. Shinji whimpers and almost tries to wipe away the blood before remembering it’s not even on his side. He has the fleeting thought that Kaworu’s still protecting him from the reality of his own faults.

Shinji feels Kaworu’s name bubble up in his throat along with his stomach acid, but it comes out as a lame weep. He leans his forehead against the barrier and almost nuzzles into it, trying to push himself through.

_It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault._

“ _Kaworu_ ,” Shinji breathes out. The shape of the name leaves his mouth and forms as condensation in front of him.

_It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m disgusting._

Suddenly, Shinji falls forward, and his eyes shoot open. Everything around him has been swallowed into a black void. He can see his hands spread out before him, thrown out to prevent his descent.

Shinji’s lungs stutter dangerously against his ribs when he sees the red liquid under his flat palms, inching towards his knees. _No. No. No no no no nononono—_

He looks up before he can stop himself, and he sees a flash of starlight hair sticking to the _stuff_ under his gloves. Shinji swallows down a burst of vomit.

“K-Kaworu?”

Shinji’s voice echoes into the emptiness, and he reaches forward before he can stop himself. The liquid gore on his hands drips onto the hair, and Shinji thrusts himself back into the darkness when he suddenly sees Kaworu’s face. Whatever light illuminating his features stops right at his neck, and Shinji feels more tears well up at the corners of his eyes.

A fog settles over Shinji’s senses and blurs every thought he could possibly have, and he slowly starts crawling forward again. One of his tears slips down the crease of his nose as his face twists. Kaworu looks like he’s having a pleasant dream.

Shinji’s knees make prints in the blood leaking from the darkness below Kaworu’s chin, and he leans close and carefully reaches out, cupping Kaworu’s face. He shudders and weeps because his bloody hands stain Kaworu’s skin, streaking his cheekbones with the remains of his own life.

 _I’m so fucked up,_ he thinks, because he’s so _greedy._ He picks up Kaworu’s _head_ , squeezing his eyes shut to avoid seeing the threads of his muscles hanging from his neck. He cradles Kaworu’s head to his chest and holds Kaworu over his heart. The weight grounds Shinji, gives him something to attach himself to as he feels himself unraveling.

His breath stutters violently inside of him as he cries and cries and _cries_ and wishes he could feel Kaworu’s hair through his suit and repair his biggest regret. Shinji manages to peel his eyes open and heaves when he sees he’s soaking Kaworu’s hair. He pulls Kaworu away from him so he can look at his face. 

Shinji’s self-hatred digs into his intestines as he props Kaworu’s head against his knees, and his throat burns when his tears fall across Kaworu’s nose. There’s a lonely freckle on the side of his nose bridge, and Shinji gently presses his lips to it — like he’s always wanted to.

“I’m so _sorry_ , Kaworu, I’m so, so, so sorry,” he pleads as more salty misery drips off his jaw onto Kaworu’s serene expression. Kaworu’s smile doesn’t show his teeth anymore, and Shinji almost runs his thumb over his drying lips. They’re losing more color by the second, and Shinji suddenly feels the warm stain of life on his chest.

He lets his gaze trail from the centerline of Kaworu’s face to the sides where his hands are, and he notices bundles of actual red thread swirling countless times around each of his fingers. The string falls gently down Kaworu’s cheeks, and Shinji shivers when he sees them wrapped around the stub of Kaworu’s neck. 

The ends hang loosely from the remnants of the DDS collar — if Shinji unfocused his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to tell the strands from the tendons. He turns over his shoulder and spits out a bullet of bile, stomach still turning over even when he tries to calm his breathing and turn back around.

Kaworu always seemed to know everything — he was always too smart for Shinji, too wise, but he never treated Shinji like he was less than anything. 

Did he know this would happen too?

_“I really was born to meet you,” Kaworu says easily, words flowing off his tongue like he’s saying them both for the first and the thousandth time. Shinji’s heart skips a beat, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself as they sit in the blue darkness. Kaworu’s eyes look maroon._

_After blinking in shock — “You’re so,” Shinji laughs, “You’re too nice to me.”_

_“But I mean it.”_

_Shinji watches him with nervous amusement on his lips, trying to crush the hope fluttering through his insides. Kaworu seems to see right through him when he smiles reassuringly and cards a hand through Shinji’s dark hair._

_“I’ll always mean it, Shinji-kun.”_

Shinji crumbles in on himself and tightens his grip, and the threads around Kaworu’s throat move with the push and pull of his bones. Is this what Kaworu meant? Was he born to be destroyed by Shinji’s hands?

 _You really are the worst,_ his subconscious easily provides for him in the spaces between his thoughts. Shinji can’t help but agree.

He loosens his hold on Kaworu enough that the strings aren’t cutting into the meat of his bleached neck, and Shinji cries more as a wave of pain crashes within his ribcage.

Even in death, Kaworu still looks so sure of himself. Shinji shivers and tucks Kaworu’s face close to his heart again so he stops crying on Kaworu’s final expression.

_What a cruel fate indeed._

* * *

Shinji wakes up sobbing against the lacquered wood of his desk, chest throbbing as he pants hysterically to try and catch his breath. He shoots up in his cheap seat and skitters back a couple inches with his own momentum.

_It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault it’s all my fault it’s all my—_

“Shinji, hey, hey!” Kensuke panics, dropping his chopsticks into his bento in surprise and leaning into Shinji’s vision.

Someone firmly slaps Shinji across the back, and he falls forward against his desk, nails scratching the surface and releasing the tension in his body. The whispers and “Are you okay?”s around him slowly start to sound clearer since his hyperventilating was interrupted.

Shinji stares at his shivering hands, turning them over so he can see his palms — they’re tan and callused like they always are. He does some attempt at a breathing exercise, inhaling and exhaling on slightly uneven counts, and someone claps their hand on his shoulder and jolts him into reality.

“Oi, Shinji, you’re — you’re crying,” he hears Touji state, voice ticking up at the end as if he’s unsure of what he’s seeing.

Shinji glances up and tries to unfurl himself from the ball he started curling into, making Kensuke lean further in front of him. He squints like he’s analyzing an insect. “Bad dream?”

Shinji looks away again out of nervous habit. _He still remembers the weight of Kaworu’s head._ “Y-Yeah,” he whispers out. The word carries all the air out of him, and he almost collapses back onto his desk.

Kensuke hums thoughtfully, brows scrunched in sympathy as Shinji frantically tries to wipe away his tears. Touji sighs, tosses Shinji one of his buns from the school market, and crushes him into a jock side hug.

“You okay, dude? Maybe you’re just, like, overworked.”

 _How could I be okay?_ Shinji’s fingers twitch as he rubs an index along his neck. “It was j-just a dream.” _It felt too real to be a token nightmare._

Touji frowns, and Shinji nearly melts into pathetic boy ooze. “What was it about?”

Kensuke rolls his eyes and scarfs down a clump of rice. “You really are a meathead,” he taunts through his bite. Shinji can’t move.

At that moment, the classroom door slides open, and Shinji catches a flash of gleaming red hair followed by Hikari’s polite footsteps. Asuka’s face twists in an ugly way reserved only for Shinji when she sees him blubbering.

“W-Where’s Kaworu?” Shinji nearly begs as soon as Asuka passes him for her desk in the next row over. 

He doesn’t know why he’s asking her, not when she rolls her eyes at everything he says. He can feel Hikari’s gentle gaze burning into him.

Asuka tsks and pops her bento open on her desk. “Why would I know? And what reason do you have to be a crybaby in the middle of the day?”

Shinji chews on the inside of his cheek and tastes a drop of blood. “Where’s Kaworu?”

Her eyes sharpen into cut diamonds as her lips curl viciously. “You really don’t have anything better to do—”

“Asuka, maybe not today,” he hears Hikari quietly suggest. Shinji cringes at the pity lining her voice.

Asuka makes a show of groaning, balancing her chair on its back legs as she leans and lolls her head toward him. “Why do you need to know?”

“I need to talk to him.” Asuka tsks again and flips her hair over her shoulder.

“I think,” Hikari interrupts, “he’s on the roof. He said he wanted to eat alone today.”

Asuka harrumphs in agreement and pierces Shinji with her stare. “What, you’re gonna go cling onto him again?”

But Shinji’s already rising out of his seat and stumbling towards the door, tripping over a student whose legs peek out from under their desk. He feels everyone turning towards him and hears Asuka sputtering in irritated shock, but he pushes forward anyways and skitters down the slippery white hallways.

His body still feels out of his control, limbs heavy and shaking and mind still remembering Kaworu’s face as he held his — his fucking _head._

“You’re so fucking gross,” Shinji whispers to himself as he swings on the stairway railing and stumbles up the steps like a dog. People don’t just _hold_ _heads._ People don’t have dreams of their friends dying, either. Not like that.

He bursts into the chilly spring air before he can even prepare something to say, frantically scanning the rooftop.

“Shinji-kun?”

Shinji gasps as his head snaps over — and there’s Kaworu near the right edge of the roof, slowly standing up to greet him. He’s healthy, and he’s here with a head on his body, and he smiles curiously at Shinji like he wants to know a secret.

Shinji holds back his tears as he trips over to Kaworu, only letting them fall when he crushes him in a tight hug.

After a beat of hesitation, Kaworu hugs him back, hands gently gliding down Shinji’s sides and clasping at the small of his back, relaxed and graceful. Shinji nuzzles into the crook of Kaworu’s neck before embarrassment can stop him, and Kaworu’s cheeks puff against him in laughter.

“You’re quite strong when you want to be,” he notes, because of course he would, and Shinji loosens his embrace self-consciously. He can’t stop crying though, but Kaworu graciously doesn’t comment on that and threads a hand through the short hair near Shinji’s neck. It feels too familiar, too comfortable, and stirs something in his stomach he's too scared to put a name to.

Shinji sniffles loudly when he pulls away, and he roughly rubs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “S-Sorry, I—” he huffs, “I ruined your shirt.”

Kaworu blinks as he processes the words, glancing at his shoulder like Shinji hadn’t just soaked it. He shrugs and beams, plucking the cloth off his skin so it doesn’t stick to him. “It’s just a shirt, and it’s also just water.”

Shinji laughs wetly and swipes his forearm across his eyes one last time to erase how much he cried. Kaworu still reaches forward and runs his thumb over a stray tear on his cheek. His smile dims to something less radiant, gaze darkening in quiet worry.

Shinji shudders and almost recoils from Kaworu’s touch, but Kaworu takes his hand away for him. He sits back down on the concrete, lunch sitting untouched by his hip, and pats the empty spot next to him.

Shinji stumbles towards the ground and bumps shoulders with Kaworu along the way. The other boy hums in gentle amusement and hands Shinji a thermos. “You must be dehydrated. I don’t have water, but I do have hot soup.”

Kaworu doesn’t press Shinji even when he sees him shake while trying to pour liquid into the thermos’ cap. He carefully pries Shinji’s stiff fingers from the container and does it himself, eyes so gentle Shinji could cry. And he does. 

_You’re such a coward._

Kaworu’s gaze flickers to him, and he wipes away another tear gliding down the curve of Shinji’s cheek. “Did something happen?”

“N-No,” Shinji stutters, shaking his head vigorously and getting his bangs in his eyes.

Kaworu hums and smiles sadly, brushing the hair off Shinji’s forehead. “I’m sorry today isn’t going well for you.”

Shinji bites his lip because he feels like he’s lying and Kaworu is so _kind_ , and Kaworu pulls away with the thermos, placing it by his lunch and staring out at Tokyo. Shinji raises the soup to his lips and sighs as warmth rushes over his tongue. “This is... helping to make it better. My day, I mean.”

“I’m glad.”

_You’re so selfish. You come up here begging for his time when he wanted to be left alone._

“Y-You didn’t... have to offer it. I’m sorry, I-I asked people where you were ‘cause I-I had something to say, but...”

Kaworu makes a little sound of inquiry like a cat when they hear their name. “I don’t mind. We always have a good time together.” He punctuates his thought with a friendly shoulder nudge, and Shinji’s heart does something stupid.

_Suck it up. Suck it up and spit it out._

Shinji allows himself one more gulp of soup before handing the cap back to Kaworu. “I had a dream about you.”

Kaworu nods, resting a hand in the space between them. His fingers splay against the dirty concrete, pale and nimble like comet tails. Shinji lets out a nervous exhale.

“I wanted to — to make sure you were alright. Y-You died, and it was _really_ scary. I-I don’t even know how I understood parts of it? There was this collar and these really... really bad thoughts about Asuka a-and Ayanami for some reason, and we had these weird _suits_ a-and—”

Kaworu reaches down, puts Shinji’s shaking hand over his beating heart. “You’re hyperventilating. Can you breathe with me?” Shinji tries to collect his thoughts as they breathe together on slow five-counts, feels the steady beat of Kaworu’s heart. There’s a new crease between Kaworu’s eyebrows.

“It felt like a memory,” Shinji huffs out with more effort than it should’ve taken. “I don’t think dreams should feel like that. Afterward, you should be able to just — _ugh._ ” He ruffles his own hair and curls forward like that’ll be a solution.

“You should be able to brush it off?”

Shinji looks up in surprise. Kaworu leans back on his hands and looks at a plane flying over their heads, its jet trail cutting across the sky. “You should be able to shake off a dream because they’re absurd. They don’t hold the weight of reality, but this one does for you, since it feels like something you lived through.”

Kaworu looks at him thoughtfully and takes one of Shinji’s hands, squeezing it. “Is it like that?”

Shinji lets out a sigh — of relief? Anxiety? — and nods. Kaworu hums thoughtfully and threads their fingers together, and Shinji remembers the red strings that were tangled around his hands and Kaworu’s throat. 

“I think I had the same dream as you, Shinji-kun.”

“ _What?_ ” Shinji blurts, eyes as wide as tea saucers when he turns and sees Kaworu’s knowing smile.

“I came up here because...” Kaworu frowns, “I was quite unsettled. I didn’t think it was a reason to stay home, but I’ve been thinking about it all day.” There’s another hand squeeze, and Kaworu brings his free palm up to his throat where the choker was. His mouth tugs down lower. “What happened after the choker went off?”

Shinji winces and presses his arm into Kaworu’s, using that warmth to ground him in this moment. “Nothing really. I sat there and... and cried. Then everything went dark, and I-I only saw you.”

Another hand squeeze. Shinji’s eyes start watering again when he meets Kaworu’s stare. “You looked like you were just sleeping.” Kaworu smiles sadly and sighs before leaning against Shinji’s shoulder. 

They spend the next few minutes listening to each other’s breathing and watching the May breeze tousle the trees in front of the school. The wind makes their cheap shirts rustle against each other, and the fabric scratches Shinji’s skin.

“There’s one more thing,” he pipes up. Kaworu makes that little cat-inquiry sound again. He’s tracing his thumb along the grooves of Shinji’s hand. “There were these red threads tied around my fingers, and they... they went back to you. To your — to your neck.”

There’s a stutter in Kaworu’s movements, and Shinji winces. “And then I had this... like, memory within a memory. We were under a bunch of stars, and you said that you were... born to meet me.”

Kaworu turns his head into Shinji’s shoulder at that, the press of his lips curling into a smile into Shinji’s shirt. Shinji’s cheeks warm when he sees Kaworu’s ears turn pink, and he looks back out at the city while he waits for a response. The air is crisp against his nose and burns the drying tear trails on his face.

“It sounds like we’re connected, then,” Kaworu finally says. “Hopefully not... _that_ same way, though.”

Shinji nods solemnly, and Kaworu’s eyes dart up to him. He tries to ignore Kaworu’s burning gaze and focuses on the Tokyo Tower’s distant silhouette. “You only transferred here last month, didn’t you?” Shinji asks.

“Mm hm.”

“It’s just — it feels really strange.”

“Strange how?”

Shinji pouts down at him, and Kaworu grins. “I’m bad at articulation, you know.” He runs a hand across his face because now it _really_ hurts from the wind. “It’s been no time at all, but I do feel tied to you, I guess.” Shinji cringes at the uncertainty at the end of his declaration — it’s a bad habit.

Kaworu’s free hand trails up and down Shinji’s arm, fingertips lighting up paths of nerves in their wake. “I do as well. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying how I feel, Shinji-kun. Don’t you feel the same?” He raises his head to stare at Shinji directly, gaze piercing through him. “That dream was somehow a memory for me too.”

Shinji chuckles nervously before eventually conceding, memorizing the curves of Kaworu’s face and the easy lilt of his voice. He’s so clear about everything — it’s really admirable. “Do you think the dream means anything more than that? Like... an omen, I guess.”

Kaworu glances away for a moment of thought, jutting the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth. “I’d hope not. It was relatively... traumatizing.” His face twists at that, and Shinji quickly nods. 

Kaworu’s face relaxes when their eyes meet again, and Shinji realizes how close they really are. “But I believe in fate. I like doing fate alongside you.” Can Kaworu see the heartbeat moving up to his cheeks?

Kaworu still has a single brown freckle sitting on the right side of his nose bridge like how Shinji remembered it — and he takes a leap of faith, leaning forward to press his lips quickly and softly over it.

When Shinji pulls back, tucking some of Kaworu's soft, starry hair behind his ear along the way, Kaworu’s flush spreads over his face like pink glaze on fine china. Shinji's instincts tell him to run off and go slam into a wall somewhere, but Kaworu grins dazedly, eyes bright with pleasant surprise. It's _beautiful._

“We’ll make this reality a better one,” he declares, and Shinji nods with him.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say to Kaworu’s romanticism.

Kaworu takes his answer graciously, trailing a hand up to cup Shinji’s face and still holding his hand with the other. “I am too,” he replies, brushing their noses together. He can see the silent question in Kaworu’s eyes, and Shinji lets himself smile — because Kaworu is there, and Kaworu understands and knows. And even if he doesn’t, they’ll figure it out.

When their lips meet, the wind gusts through the gaps between them, blows Kaworu’s hair everywhere and makes Shinji’s cheeks sting. Kaworu squeezes his hand again and presses their chests together, heart over heart.

Shinji briefly pulls away and sees a hint of blush at the peak of Kaworu’s cheekbones. He decisively likes the color red — especially on Kaworu.

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to my lovely friend cj for beta-ing this, we do both be loving kawoshin <3 this ship ... changed my life. and neon genesis changed my life. and i owe sm to it and to these Boys. these are all facts!!!
> 
> hope there r no typos :,) thank u for reading!! pls leave a kudos or comment too if u'd like :)) i hope u have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening!! <3


End file.
